Dom Perignon
by NighttimeTrees
Summary: Troy's a cynic bartender. Gabriella's a free spirit artist. Both are chasing their dreams in New York City and facing considerable hardships. Will their relationship resemble fine wine, or leave a bad taste in their mouth like stale beer? First story, please review xx


_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters but the story is mine. This first chapter is **short**, mainly because it's a trial run. Please leave feedback  
_

* * *

Working was Troy Bolton's most needed and most dreaded burden. He hated rising from his pull-out couch bed at 7 pm, dragging himself into his cold shower, and slinking out of his meager, upper west side studio apartment. As he shouldered through the crowded Manhattan street on what could undoubtedly be called the hottest day of the year, he came to the blunt realization: he hated his job.

He walked the 8 blocks remaining completely silent. This was his meditation. Though he would deny any spirituality the noise and people and smog created a morbid sense of home.

But he was going to work, not mecca, and this made him pessimistic to how his shift would play out.

Troy was a lot of things. A college graduate, 24, and really shitty bartender.

He only got the job, as his co-worker Martin so graciously told him, because the owner of the bar thought the bar needed some 'face value'. And Troy Bolton fit the bill of a good face.

Many would say he was damn near gorgeous, the whole 'eternally misunderstood starving artist' routine really won over the ladies. His younger sister's words, not his.

He strolled into the dead bar and headed for the back. He chucked his 'valuables' in his locker and tacked his name tag on his work shirt.

Troy didn't own anything remotely considered valuable. He wasn't even valuable. He had college tuition he had barely put a dent in and a flip phone. He was worth almost nothing and he was reminded of that, one way or another, every single day.

As the hours passed on the bar slowly filled to a swelled amount. The kind of amount that made you question the maximum occupancy limit of the establishment.

"Kill me now" he muttered to no one.

"That's the spirit Bolton!" retorted his co-worker and only friend Chad with a slap on the back,

mirroring Troy's level of enthusiasm.

"That's the spirit" he repeated coldly.

* * *

At about eleven pm Troy had simply reached his limit.

The drunken hit-ons from older woman got stale after nine, and the heat radiating from the packed building caught up in his lungs.

He had used up his last smoke break about twenty minutes ago and he felt his legs go numb from basically sprinting behind the bar.

"Two G and T's please"

"One more whiskey here boy, and speed it up will ya?"

"Hey when do you get off hot stuff? Mama needs a night out?"

"How much is a beer?"

"How many calories are in a shot of tequila? Like… one maybe?"

"Where's my shot of vodka?"

"How old are you?"

"You single?"

"Uhhhh…can I get uhhhh…um…what kinda beer ya got?"

Troy's job made him fear the direction humanity was headed in. People seemed to get more stupid and rude as the days went on.

He didn't know how many more times he could force a smile and say "One moment please" to impatient bar patrons.

* * *

Finally at around twelve, things, as they usually do, seemed to slow down. Troy had just finished mixing three drinks for three over-zealous when Chad walked over to him.

"We need to get out of here man, I can hear my soul crying" Chad always had an impeccable dramatic air.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly does that sound like, man?" Troy was humoring him. They had nowhere to go.

"It sounds the same as yours dude. We aren't going anywhere. We're going nowhere to be exact and…"

Troy tuned him out. He was uncharacteristically eager when he watched a petite brunette walk in the door.

She was wearing dark denim jeans that looked a bit too big and a top that strongly resembled a bra. Her hair was long and dark brown and stopped just at her bust. She made eye contact with almost everyone and was walking directly in his direction

"Are you listening to me man" Chad whined. Chad was a whiner. Chad was a boy.

You see, the only reason Chad worked at this dump is because his parents cut him off after he refused to leave his pregnant girlfriend. He and Taylor had only been together 4 months when they found out she was pregnant and Chad felt obligated and slightly excited at the new twist in his life.

Although mommy and daddy Danforth cut him off they still left him with enough to live, which was far more than Troy could ever hope for.

"Listen Troy" Chad shouted, grabbing Troy by the shoulders "I gotta kid coming soon and you have dreams too man. You used to never shut the hell up about being a chef, but you know this bar isn't doing shit for us!"

Troy froze. He had almost completely forgotten his dreams. That scared him.

He was going to respond when a light voice completely grasped his attention

"Hate to interrupt the lover's quarrel but can I trouble either of you gentleman for a Dom Perignon?"

* * *

What do you guys think?

Any and all criticism is gladly received!


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